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Mikhail pulled the rest of his suit up, slipping his hands through the arms and zipping it up all the way to the top. He pinched at a few bits that weren't quite fitting right, but he was soon happy with it. "Relax. Calm down." Was all Mikhail could say, sensing doubt in Dunya's voice. She wasn't usually like this, and it took a lot to shake the Russian woman up the wrong way. It was understandable, the island was on their toes, expecting something big to happen soon. "Oh believe me, I'm going to have a little chat with Juron before we shut-up-shop for the winter. I knew that little Norwegian bitch couldn't resist causing trouble." There was no question about who was the most unpopular person on the island right now, in fact she was definitely in the same ranks as Adalinda but at least she wasn't hated by the German side. Juron, meanwhile, was hated by all.

He stepped out carefully on to the ice path and fastened his backpack securely. It was already rather heavy, even when empty, due to the weight of the canisters that would soon hold the oil. Because it was such unstable stuff, they needed heavy, thick metal canisters to protect it from any bumps. Unfortunately, even the backpack wasn't very good in keeping it from exploding. There was a 1 in 20 chance that the oil would explode anyway with little more than a slight shake. No wonder most of the camp never volunteered to do the run. "Well Dunya, that's why you make sure you stay well clear of them when we're skating back, hmm?" He said to her, placing a gloved hand on her shoulder and smirking. "Now stop moaning, or I'll trade you to the Germans for an extra tank of oil."

It was already cold. He could feel the winter wind nipping away at the tops of his ears, biting at his cheeks and tickling his nose. He never quite understood why this part of the island was always cold, although it was probably one of the reasons why Adalinda allowed them to stay here and nowhere else. Oh, you're Russians, you're used to snow so shut up or get off my island! she would say. Couldn't argue with that. Mikhail put his helmet on and buckled the straps under his chin, continuing to fix his suit to stop the discomfort that was annoying him. "Every one ready?" He asked, the others nodding their shivering heads. "Good. Let's get this over with." Mikhail said, skating away quickly towards the mine.

Dunya raised her brows at Mikhail, tempted to open her mouth and ask him how he expected to get that extra tank of oil back from the mine without her helping. From the look at the others they were taking with them, she didn

Szymanski looked at his clipboard, lifting the top sheet of paper and looking at what was written behind it. He then lowered the clipboard to his side and shook his head, watching Mikhail and the others skate in to the loading bay. "I don't think so. You don't honestly think you can get more than we agreed? Look, we can't just start giving out extra stuff -- you know what the deal is, and that doesn't change just because Ada's not in charge any more."

Mikhail took off his helmet and frowned at the Polish porter. "You heard what the lady said. Now why don't you go and do what she asked before she sticks those blades of hers up your backside." He said, unstrapping his backpack and shoving it in to Szymanski's hands, causing him to drop his clipboard. While Szymanski went away to hopefully fill up his tanks, the additional skaters they had brought with them caused some extra attention to come their way. From the outside, it looked as if they had brought numbers so that they could over-power their way in to getting more oil, and Mikhail making sure he was completely aware of everything that was happening around them. It didn't help that most of the goons in the mine were wearing the big yellow radiation suits, their faces hidden behind reflective visors. They could have been staring at them but there was no way of knowing unless their heads were facing in their direction.

Like always, they had a guard at the entrance but due to the unstable oil, he was banned from carrying any kind of weapon that fired a bullet. Although Mikhail had no (current) intentions of stealing oil, the guard didn't pose much of a threat when all he was carrying was a baton. It was the one thing going for them. The Germans were too scared to shoot them in the mine, and the Russians were tough enough to fight with anything they could grab.

Mikhail knew they had to start coming up with a realistic plan if Szymanski decided not to come back, or even worse -- if he came back with a couple of goons and forcefully kicked them out of the mine. Up until the night their road was destroyed, the Russians had had a relatively stable relationship with the Germans, though that was well-and-truely shattered with Juron's little article. Both sides were on edge, both suspicious of one another. Mikhail's eyes never seemed to focus on anything for more than a few seconds before they were darting to look at something else. He didn't like being surrounded by so many Germans, they were definitely the kind of people that you couldn't trust.

Eventually, Szymanski did come back, and much to Mikhail's relief, the tanks on his backpack were full. Very full, in fact. As usual, Szymanski passed it to him with a shaking hand, as if he were nervous that breathing on it would set the thing off. "You'll get your oil." He sighed with defeat, asking for the rest of the backpacks to be passed his way. One-by-one, the other Russians passed him the oil and he would disappear for a few minutes to go and fill them up. The last person to have their containers filled up was Dunya, and the Russian woman was handed her (very) heavy backpack to put over her shoulders. "But just remember that little contract we all signed expires next summer... and you'll be damned lucky if we're as generous with this one as we were with the last. So my advice?" He asked, patting his hand on top of Dunya's helmet. "Don't have the heating on too high this winter." He smirked.

Mikhail gave a sarcastic smile towards him and turned around to return to the ice. The weight of the backpacks were already becoming a problem for some of the new guys, and they were clearly struggling to keep their balance on the slippery surface. It was going to be a long skate back.

It wasn't long before they were back on the ice, and all of a sudden it felt like it was twice as long as it had been on the way here. The weight of the backpack, the fragile load, and not to mention the nerves starting to kick in were all factors. Mikhail wasn't going to let it get to him, but he was unsure just how big a radius these things had if they ever set-off. Would they just take out the guy that was wearing the tanks, or would they all be caught in the blast? Either way, he kept his distance but also kept an eye on how the others were getting on.

Quarter of the way there. Mikhail was getting the hang of this. He couldn't go as fast as he usually could, and he had adjusted his technique to compensate for the heaviness behind him. He couldn't wait to get back to the base and open up a bottle of beer, it was definitely deserved after all of this. But something wasn't quite right. There was a noise. It started quietly, coming from the distance. Then it got louder. While the source was still unknown, the sound was beginning to become familiar to his Russian ears. Sounded like... an engine? But no vehicle could come anywhere close to this route because of the ice and the snow. The only thing that could travel across this was... airborne. He looked up, and his heart sank. "Dunya... we've got a German chopper on our tail." He said.

"No." Mikhail said, shaking his head at the suggestion that they just abandon the vital oil that they had came all this way for. "We can't leave them. We came here for the oil, we bring back the oil. We can do this." He realised that his decision was going to prove costly, and there was little doubt that there would be some casualties before they got back home. The helicopter was definitely German, and the large gun poking out the side of the hovering vehicle definitely meant that they were more than prepared to attack. There was no warning, no threat, this was a discussion that wasn't going to be spoke with words. They just had to skate as fast as they could. The others nodded their head nervously as they were told to keep skating and not stop. Here they were... half a dozen easy targets for that big gun in the helicopter. He just hoped he wasn't the one that got hit.

Inside the helicopter, Frederick sat in the pilot's seat, steering the vehicle with some difficulty. It was Adalinda who had suggested they intercept one of the Russian's little oil runs, and when they found out that they were going to be transporting a large quantity of the resource, then it gave her the idea of using them as target practice. Before he left, Dietrich had left her with a huge gun that was nothing more than an over-sized rifle that even he struggled to hold for a long period of time. The bullets were armour-piercing, and would have little difficulty in breaking through the tank casing on the Russian's backs. Frederick wasn't a pilot, he had taken a few lessons in piloting a helicopter and while he could keep it in the air and steer it about, the winter winds were fighting against it. "Better make this quick." He spoke through the headset to Ada in the back. "The weather's getting bad... we can't stay in the air for long."

The explosion was sudden, it rocked the skaters off their feets no matter how far away they were to one another. The helicopter was just out of reach, yet the faint ripples of the bang could still be felt inside of the vehicle. Mikhail fell hard, he groaned as he knocked his knee against the hard ice below him. For a brief moment, he panicked, not daring to move in fear of the tanks on his back blowing up. He looked over to where the skater had once been, yet the fuel explosion had completely destroyed any trace of him. The Germans weren't here to talk, they were here to kill them! They were about to start a damn world war! Those damn fools!

He leapt to his feet and wiped his face, licking his cold lips and did not hesitate any more. He had to go. To hell with the backpack. He wasn't going to be careful any more, they had to get this stuff back to their base and man the guns. Blow the helicopter out of the sky, radio back to mother Russia and tell them what the hell was going on on this tiny little island. After that moment, Mikhail had little interest in the rest of them. His mind was focused on the helicopter and nothing else; the rotor blades and engine hovering above them, buzzing away like a wasp that wouldn't go away. He had no idea who it's next target was, and even worse for them was there was nothing to hide behind. Nothing but ice. The entire landscape around them was flat and bare, offering no cover or anywhere to shelter. They couldn't go back, the Germans were the ones attacking them -- there was only one direction to go. South. Get back home. His legs worked overtime, his muscles and body grinding away, his blades scraping deep against the ice. If this were a race, he would be in contention for some kind of world record. The adrenaline and cold clouded his vision, a deep fog kicked in and for a moment he thought as if it would help hide them. The helicopter had definitely disappeared from his view, but what he wasn't counting on was the scope on the rifle that allowed the shooter to see through almost any kind of weather.

There was another explosion, another scream but Mikhail couldn't pinpoint it's origin. Perhaps he had skated too far away from the rest, though it still sounded near. "Dunya?!" He shouted through the fog, slowly skating backwards yet always keeping himself mobile. When she failed to answer, he didn't dare wait. Mikhail continued to weave from side-to-side, making it difficult for the shooter to target him. It felt like his legs were about to go.

Somebody else had been hit, but the identity was a mystery to Mikhail. He was too far away from the explosion to feel it, he was so far ahead that it sounded much quieter than the other ones. How many of them were left? Two? Where was Dunya? He should have stopped and tried to find her, but it was stupid to turn back now. The helicopter was still here, and although he was unaware that the shooter had long since abandoned the weapon, he kept up the speed. Zig-zagging along the slippery surface like a pro, carefully keeping the contents of the canisters balanced so they didn't slosh about inside. There wasn't much space inside of the tank for it to move about anyway, they had been filled to within a centimetre of the lid. The Russian camp was near, a couple of hundred yards and he'd be at the gate. His hands trembled, and it wasn't due to the cold. Shit had hit the fan. War had begun. And they were right bang in the very middle of it.

Frederick was glad that Adalinda had given up on the fun she was having, as it allowed him to turn the helicopter around and head back. The fog was beginning to interfere with his vision, and he was relying on the dials and instruments on the dashboard to tell him where he was, and which was was north. There would be no time for resting, the plan had already begun and there was no stopping it now. The French were in position, they were ready to help them get rid of the Russians once and for all. A French battleship floated quietly off the shore, it's heavy cannons aiming directly at the Russian camp to provide artillery support to their frogmen (and women) who were ready to storm the base.

Meanwhile, a group of German soldiers loyal to Adalinda's cause were preparing to take over the mine. They had infiltrated the facility, under the guise of workers -- their identities hidden beneath the yellow contamination suits. As soon as they received the signal, they were to eliminate any one who was not on their side (to prevent any accidental friendly fire, each man wore a little mark on their suit) and work their way up to Karlheinz's office, where he would be captured. The red carpet would then be rolled out for Adalinda to make her triumphant return. Adalinda would be giving the signal, and Frederick pointed his thumb to the yellow suit in the back -- complete with the standard rubber boots that lacked any sort of heel, the kind that Adalinda no doubt detested. If she wore her heels, they'd know who she was right away. "Better get suited up, Princess. Let us hope that Dietrich has cut the island's radios off from the world."

Adalinda wasn't looking forward to wearing the black boots that were required with the suit, especially since she did not want to be recognised right away. The first person she wanted to see her was Karlheinz and have him take in the knowledge that she had never left -her- island to him, and that she was taking it back with more force than the man probably imagined she still had.

When she had found out that it wasn't just Frederick and Dietrich that were still on her side, the German woman felt some sense of respect for her people come back to her. The day she had left, Adalinda had thought that everyone had completely turned their back to her; but that hadn't been true. Not only did Dietrich remain as loyal as ever to the German Princess, but Frederick, Sahara, and even poor Laura; where ever she was now. The return of the island to her possession was going to be bittersweet, and the disposal of the Russians was going to be just the icing that she needed for this bloody cake.

They waited on the lowest level of the mine, standing about the flow of workers that didn't even give them a second glance as they went about their business. What was going to be happening within minutes made Adalinda so giddy she almost couldn't contain herself and keep herself from just letting everyone know that she was back-- but that wasn't a good idea. She may have supporters inside the mine now, but that did not mean they outnumbered the workers surrounding them. That didn't mean she was worried about the take-over being unsuccessful though; the element of surprise was on her side. Turning her head to Frederick she gave a slight nod of her head to let him know it was time to get the ball rolling. She wanted to make Karlheinz Stanger cry.

The MineIt started off beautifully, Adalinda didn't even need to lift a finger and there was death already happening all around her. A sound of alarm had yet to be raised to alert the rest of the workers that something was going terribly wrong, and she didn't think anyone would even get the chance to make that happen before her people had taken out everyone that was a threat to them-- or at least rounded them up and kept them out of the way until she was doing what she needed to do. It wasn't going to be much longer now until she was face-to-face with Karlheinz for what she hoped would be the last time, and she was going to enjoy squeezing the life out of him. She suspected his acting would be better as a dead man. Once Frederick was done with the supervisor that had come up on them, Adalinda slipped her arm through his and turned him in the direction that they needed to go. "I do like the way you think Freddie, I'm sure he'll be jumping with joy when he sees us.

Russian BaseIt hadn't been a task that Vanessa ever thought she would find herself in the middle of; helping the Germans take out the Russian colony on an island she hadn't even heard of until being briefed on the mission. Now she found herself on that island with her group ready to blow a hole into the Russian's wall and take them out with back-up coming from their ship. It as all exciting really, as much as Vanessa didn't quite understand the entire point to it she never passed up an opportunity to blow anything up and kick some serious ass. She jus hoped that there was going to be at least someone worth fighting on the other side. Pulling out the radio she spoke a few words into it before raising three fingers in front of her for Thierry to see. "Three... two..."

With the mine now under their control once more, all that had to be done was removing Karlheinz from his position of power. When Adalinda sat her little bum in the chair behind the desk, their crusade was over and her mission of revenge would be complete. Frederick just hoped that every one else was doing their part, and the Russians weren't causing their French comrades any problems.Heading up in the lift, Frederick removed the helmet part of the radiation suit and dumped it on the floor of the elevator, licking his lips in anticipation of what was about to happen next. The box beeped, and the doors opened, and standing in front of them was the door to Karlheinz's office. "My princess. Perhaps you should speak to him alone." He suggested, he would stand outside the office door and keep guard in case any one else chose to come investigate.

Russian Base

There was a thunderstorm from above, and lead rained on top of the the base just as the wall exploded. They were in. Now they just had to be quick, fast on their feet and make sure they didn't run in to the path of a mortar shell from the ship. The three men wasted no time in following with their plan, following the routes they had memorised from the days of planning and preparation.

Thierry kicked down the door of the barracks and mowed down a couple of Russians who had been half-dressed, while Montand took care of any one found in the mess hall building. With the third building also cleared, it was up to Vanessa to do her bit.

The MineThe elevator ride up seemed to take some time, time that Adalinda didn't want to waste when she didn't have to. But really, who took the stairs when making a triumphant return back to her 'throne' as she liked to think of it as. If she had it her way completely Adalinda would have been out of the radiation suit and in her favourite heels (heels that she missed, but at the same time was enjoying being out of), and she would walk through that office door like she had never left. Things weren't always perfect as she found out and the German princess had no problems altering her vision to make it happen.

The doors slid open and down at the end of the hall she could see her office waiting for her, with Karlheinz unsuspecting inside. She agreed with Frederick that it should just be her going in to speak with him alone. It was a very personal matter between the two of them that needed her attention only; she couldn't have him thinking she couldn't face him alone."I do hope he's ready for company." Exiting the elevator Adalinda walked down the hall to the office door, a small pistol she'd brought with her in her hand as she pushed the door open and walked in, firmly shutting the door behind her. "Karlheinz darling, it's so good to see you again. Keeping well, I see. I'll warn you now I'm not here alone so if you shoot me-- you won't make it out that door alive."

Russian BaseVanessa didn't waste any time getting her butt moving and into the building that was hers for the taking. She knew that her team would carry out their tasks perfect without leaving anything for anyone to worry abou. She knew that as long as there was a rain-down of shells nobody would take up much fight against them out in the open, with explosions kicking up everywhere there wasn't much space for the Russians to evacuate to. There was only a few of them but with the cover from the ship she didn't see eliminating some Russians as a tough task.

Kicking down the door to the building Vanessa rushed in and opened fire on the Russians that appeared to being scrambling from all the commotion outside to get out and fight back against whatever it was that was issuing the threat. Too bad for them, the French woman was quicker and managed to take them out without wasting too many bullets. The commotion on the main floor had brought the rest of the Russians in the building running, but Vanessa made sure to meet them on the stairs and take them out.

Once she had been sure that she'd cleared the building Vanessa got on her radio to let the others know, and find out the status of their task.

Karlheinz had turned in to such a paranoid mess, that he had instantly went for the pistol on his desk. He held it up, pointing in the direction of the door as the person in the radiation suit walked in. Almost instantly, he knew who it was. Eventually, the voice gave her identity away, even if the mask distorted the tone of her words somewhat. He had been waiting for this day. Waiting for the day that he was going to be put out of his misery. He cursed the day that he had been given this job, this role that was never suited for him. He didn't have the advisers to help him; Laura had hated him from day one due to her loyalty towards Adalinda. And when he couldn't count on her support, he was left to fend for himself. Juron had been a welcome addition to his life, but now she was long gone from it.

"How are you still alive?" He asked, frowning and trying to look at her face beneath the mirrored reflection. "Dietrich killed you. No... what am I saying? Of course he didn't kill you. Well if you've come to take it all back... you're welcome to it. I don't want this place." He kept the gun firmly pointed towards her, the metal shaking ever so slightly.

Russian Base

With the artillery bombing now stopped, and the base secured, Montand dropped his weapon to his side and walked out of the mess hall, glad that it was over. All-in-all, it had been a pretty successful mission. "Why aren't they all like this?" He asked with a smirk, walking towards Thierry, Vanessa and NPC Eric in the middle of the Russian yard. "Now who's going to make the call to our German fri-"Montand fell to his knees, not even managing to finish his sentence. A pair of bullets snapped through his ribcage, tearing through organs and splattering blood everywhere. NPC Eric spun on the spot and fired blindly, but he too was taken down by the unknown assailant.Thierry brought up his weapon and yelled, catching the appearance of the last Russian alive. Alexey Kirechenko, firing a machine gun wildly at the French attackers. He didn't care if he was shot, he didn't bother to hide or take cover. He kept his finger on the trigger until there was nothing left. And then a bullet in the head put an end to his resistance. He fell back. Dead.

He didn't trust her. He knew what kind of woman Adalinda Knapp was, and it was someone who you couldn't make deals with. There was a reason how she had reached this far, and it wasn't by playing by the rules and acting lady-like. The metal in his hand began to grow heavy, he brought his other hand to support it and stop the shakes. "You don't think you can go back to the way it was, do you? No one on this island likes you, Ada. There was a reason you were kicked out in the first place. The minute you try to boss people about again, you're going to find a few dozen bullets coming your way." By now, Karlheinz had retreated to the door, never once taking his eyes from Adalinda. Sure, it was risky. There could have been someone standing behind him but the door to the office was squeaky enough that it was impossible to open without hearing anything.

He could shoot her. Right now. Karlheinz had that feeling that he wasn't going to make it off this island alive, and he may as well take her down with him. Or maybe he was just becoming a paranoid wreck, and all these thoughts in his head were making him crazy. But then again, the idea of Adalinda Knapp returning to her office had pretty much pushed him over the point of no return."You won't win, Adalinda. The Council will be back. They'll do it all again. They'll find someone else to replace you and the next time -- they'll make sure that you don't come back." He wasn't going to make the announcement she wanted. Karlheinz kicked the door open and ran, brushing past Frederick and escaping in to the lift.

"Yes." Said Frederick, who had watched Karlheinz run past him and jump in to the elevator. "The Russians have been wiped out. No survivors. And Dietrich tells me the radio jammer worked perfectly. Moscow has absolutely no clue that their little encampment is under our control. We'll be populating the base with our very best Russian speakers as soon as they fix the destruction and clear up the bodies." Frederick certainly hoped that the Russians didn't decide to come on a surprise visit. While they had German and French spies that could easily disguise themselves as Russians, it would be very difficult to explain the mass destruction that had come upon the port. It was little surprise that a lot of work would be carried out over the next few weeks to build it back the way it was.

"Perhaps it would be wise to delay announcing your return to power. We should ensure that we can trust all of our men before revealing that Karlheinz has fled the island." He wasn't sure if she would agree with him, and it wasn't very often that Adalinda changed her mind. If she wanted to do something, then there was no convincing her otherwise. He understood that she was dying to tell everyone that she was back, and he wasn't going to argue if she disagreed with him. But they had to get their shit together before returning to complete status quo.

Adalinda nodded her head in approval at what Frederick was telling her, it was good to know that everything had gone as smoothly as it could have with no hiccups along the way. The last thing they had needed was for the Russians to find out what was happening to their precious people on her island and send reinforcements that would have arrived too late to save their lives anyways, but would have given her another issue to deal with once the cavalry had arrived. She also really wanted to do the complete opposite of what Frederick was suggesting, but knew that the man was probably right. He had yet to let her down so she couldn

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